


Of Heroic Hearts

by chasing_the_sterek



Series: Inktober 2017 [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Gen, Inktober 2017, John is the Criminal Boogeyman, Kidnapped Sherlock, Ummmmmmmmm, cont, i think i forgot to tag that last time, so many guards honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: He ends up by some sort of control room. He knocks out the lookouts posted to the doorway and pokes his head around the corner.A small bank of monitors, a switchboard covered in little flashing lights and big red buttons, several henchmen scattered about the room doing various things. There's a fairly innocuous-looking door with a circular window in it on the opposite wall, the wood faded enough that it nearly blends into the wall itself.John's heart leaps into his throat. There.///John continues to terrify the local criminals, and Sherlock is found!





	Of Heroic Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt was "hearts/tech"
> 
> I had a lot of trouble finishing this one actually and now I'm behind by like three billion days hELP mE

Finding Sherlock is easy, in that the goons are stupid enough to have essentially given John directions; those directions are helped along by the way the amount of guards stationed around the place keeps increasing every time he turns the right corner.

John heads down, mainly because the guards by the back door he'd come in through had mentioned a wine cellar and he's not a complete imbecile. The air in the house is thick and musty, the taste of all abandoned houses, and the dust is floating about heavily enough that it swirls tellingly whenever someone breathes. It carpets the floor, as well, leaving a trail of footprints - both a con and a pro, though the ones John is leaving are simply blending into the rest.

He ends up by some sort of control room. He knocks out the lookouts posted to the doorway and pokes his head around the corner.

A small bank of monitors, a switchboard covered in little flashing lights and big red buttons, several henchmen scattered about the room doing various things. There's a fairly innocuous-looking door with a circular window in it on the opposite wall, the wood faded enough that it nearly blends into the wall itself.

John's heart leaps into his throat. _There._

///

Sherlock's chair is facing the door. A single guy is talking to him, facing away from the door. John thinks it's pretty safe to assume that he saw all of the commotion happening outside and the interrogator didn't, especially given the raised eyebrow Sherlock is sending him.

The door is soundproof, but Sherlock can read lips extremely well and it's not like there's anyone who's going to do anything on John's side, anyway, so John decides not to bother with extravagant miming and just speaks normally.

"You all right in there?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes quickly enough that when the man in the room with him turns his head back to look at him he sees nothing at all but boredom.

John can see a tiny part of the man's mouth, just enough to catch occasional words. Something about _no_ and _now_ and a rather nastily sneered _is there?_

Given his own experience, and the cliché-inclined habits of the typical kidnapper, John would be willing to bet a tenner that that sentence went along the lines of _no help for you now, is there?_

The universe's timing has never been so great.

John presses an unconscious guard's thumb against the door scanner. There's a slightly dramatic _whoosh_ as it opens, and the man half-wheels, looking irritated.

"Garrotson, don't -"

John waves cheerfully. "Hello," he says. "I'm not Garrotson. And Sherlock Holmes isn't alone."

"John Watson?" He says faintly. "You're not John Watson?"

"That's me," John chirps.

There's a curse, and then the man falls over in a dead faint.

There's a moment of shocked silence, and then Sherlock drawls, "How very anticlimactic."

John pokes the criminal's leg with his boot, watches a moment, and then unties Sherlock's raw wrists. The detective rearranges his shirt cuffs and idly observes the way the man on the floor is groaning back into consciousness.

"Oh, I almost forgot," John says, remembering suddenly. He starts to grin wolfishly. "Did you know that I'm the criminal grapevine's boogeyman now?"

Sherlock starts to laugh. "Well, at least they have good taste." He leans down and smirks into the criminal's face. "I do hope you appreciate my preventing John from killing you. I do so hate blood on my clothes."

John lets the falsehood go, knowing it'll merely aid the spread of his reputation, and his parting smile is feral enough that the man flinches and squeaks out, "Th-thank you, Mr 'Olmes. . ."

Oh, John is never going to hear the end of this.

**Author's Note:**

> I'VE WRITTEN THREE PLUS FICS IN ONE DAY AND NOW I SHALL BACKDATE THEM SO NOBODY KNOWS


End file.
